


You're My Wonderwall

by justyoumeandthestars



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justyoumeandthestars/pseuds/justyoumeandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you love me, Adam?" He asked this, facing the microwave in the kitchen, staring blankly at the bright numbers. I stared at his back, his plain t-shirt. "Tommy. Of course I do. Why would you even ask?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drunk

I woke up to a clash to my front door. I sat up in fight-or-flight mode, looking around in panic. Then the clamoring turned to a light knock. Then the light knock turned to a booming, thunderous bang.

I stood to quickly, concluding in me falling on my ass after wiping out on my carpet. Muttering curses under my breath, I walked to the front door. On the other side of it, through the window, I could see a familiar shock of blonde hair leaning against my door. I sighed, walking closer.

As I opened the door, the elfish blonde boy fell into my arms, head snapping up. He was holding a bottle of Jack Daniel's in his left hand, a beer in his other. When he saw me, he grinned. "Hi, Adam." He said obnoxiously, long and drawn out.

"Tommy? What are you doing here?" I asked.

He pouted. "Do you not want me here our something?"

God, that pout. Those lips, so plump, so soft. He had them coated in red, glossy, sparkly lipstick, that was slightly smeared up onto his cheek. He looked so adorable.

"How did you even get here?" I questioned, closing the door. I began walking to my kitchen and he stumbled along in tow.

"I walked."

"You walked?" He nodded, his blonde hair falling into his gorgeous brown eyes. He blew it out of his face, failing. I turned on the kitchen light and he groaned as my eyes protested. "Did you fall?" He frowned. "Did you?"

He nodded slowly. "But only once." I looked at him, not believing him for a second. "Maybe twice." I sighed, grabbing him by his hips and lifting him. He giggled loudly and I shook my head.

I set him on my counter next to the steel sink. "How drunk are you?" I asked him. He held his fingers together, leaving a small space in between. My lips curved, forming a small smile. I went to move his hair out of his face when he grabbed my wrist.

"You're gonna hurt me." I shook my head.

"Never." I murmured. He looked at me, unsure. His hair was still in his face slightly, his lipstick had smeared more, and I noticed he had eyeliner that had wiped onto his cheek. "Do you trust me, Tommy?" He nodded.

"Yeah, of course." He voice sounded small and girly. I grinned. He let go of my wrist and I lifted his hair out of his eyes, looking at his forehead.

It was scratched, scuffed up in a few different areas. I shook my head. "How many times did you actually fall, gorgeous?" He giggled.

"A lot. Too many. Not enough. I don't know." I kissed his torn up skin, making him laugh again.

"Why are you drinking on a Tuesday night, anyway? Taking the rock star lifestyle to another level?" He shook his head as I let go of his soft, almost white hair. It fell in those deep, dark eyes of his.

"Fight. Kicked out." He stated, a slur in his tone. He lifted the Jack bottle to his lips, chugging. I grabbed it, stopping him.

"Kicked out of what?"

"My apartment." He mumbled, then he stood, almost falling again. I caught him by his shoulders, correcting his stance. "It's my fault."

"How did it happen?"

"I don't wanna talk 'bout it." I sighed. "Do you love me, Adam?"

He asked this, facing the microwave in the kitchen, staring blankly at the bright numbers. I stared at his back, his plain t-shirt. "Tommy. Of course I do. Why would you even ask?"

"That's...not what I meant." I gawked at him.

"W-What would a cute little straight boy like you want to know for, anyway?" He shook his head. "What's this all about?"

"Just answer my question."

"Just answer mine." He was shaking. I knew where this was headed, so I stopped him before he could say another thing. "You're drunk."

"That's irrelevant." Tommy snapped.

"I'm taking you home."

"I don't have a home! Did you not hear me? I don't have a home because my roommates don't want to live with a fag, okay?" He turned on his heel, looking at me.

His eyes, I noticed for the first time, were bloodshot. He was crying, his fringe of hair tucked behind that many-times-pierced ear. "I-"

"God, I knew it was a fucking mistake to come here." He muttered, stumbling past me and toward the door. I grabbed his arm, but he elbowed me away. "Don't touch me. I hate you. I hate everything about you."

"Why are you doing this right now?" I asked quietly.

"Because, Adam, you fucking...you're fucking up my life."

"I'm fucking up your life?" I screamed. "You've ruined everything!"

"I didn't ask you to do any of the shit you did. You did it anyway."

"You offered."

"Because you asked. I felt bad for you. So pathetic for attention." He was staring at me, and before I could take in the cocky look in his eyes, my hand swung and hit his cheek.

He stumbled into the wall, then stood upright. "You're a bitch."

"At least I fucking know what I want, you pathetic excuse for a human."

"Get the fuck of out of my house. Now!" I yelled.

"Yeah, see you at fucking practice tomorrow, asshole." He told me, then slammed the door and stomped down my driveway. I shook my head, seeing the Jack Daniel's bottle in his fist.


	2. Practice

Walking into practice the next day, I wasn't sure quite what to expect. I wished that the circumstances were different. I wished that I hadn't felt used and destroyed. I wished that Tommy hadn't said what he had last night.

And mother of all that is holy, I wished I had slept last night.

We didn't have a show any time soon, but we wanted to do something. Or, at least, we did until a drunk blonde elf showed up at my door and acted like a dick. I sighed, rubbing my face. "Adam, my friend!" I looked up, then shook my head. "You look tired." My best friend, Monte, told me. No shit.

"A little."

"At least you're not as bad as Tommy. He looks terrible." I felt guilt wash over me. "He won't talk to any of us, though. I mean, it's not like he talked a lot anyway..." he mumbled on, but I wasn't listening.

My eyes were focused on my small blonde nightmare, a sad Tommy Joe. I frowned. He was sitting on the ground, staring at his feet stretched in front of him as he leaned on his hands. His clothes were the same as yesterday's, and he had a new, half full bottle of Daniel's at his side.

Before I realized it, my feet carried my body to him, and I saw tears running down his face. "You fucked up everything." He muttered. "I hate you."

"I know I did, and I know you do." I told him. He just shook his head. "Where did you go last night?" I asked, concerned.

"What's it to you? If you cared at all you wouldn't have done or said the shit you did."

"Why did you show up at my house last night, Tommy? Drunk, of all things?"

"Adam, there's some things about me you gotta realize. One of them is that I spend eighty percent of my life drunk, or at least buzzed." I smiled.

"What made you decide to come to my house, then?" He pondered.

"Because I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather have been."

"Tommy, why did you tell your roommates that you-"

"Because I needed advice. I only told them I was undecided. I was confused. And they threw my shit at me and took my key." I frowned. "God, I thought they'd be helpful. I trusted those bastards, you know? They meant a lot to me."

I sat down next to him and tried to dust off the fact that he scooted away. "You want my advice?"

"No." I smiled.

"Will you listen if I give it to you anyway?" He nodded tentatively. "I don't think you should fret about this. You can't change the way they react to things, you know? I mean, since I was a teenager, I've been in you position. If you let them bother you, you let them think they're right."

"I didn't even come to a conclusion with them, though. All I said is that I had feelings for someone who wasn't a girl and they flipped." He lifted a hand smearing the tears off his face.

"It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have asked them."

"You shouldn't have to hold it back. Just because they aren't the people you thought they were, it doesn't mean you're at fault, Tommy."

"Then I came to you. Guess you weren't the person I thought you were either, Adam." I looked down. "I deserved the slap, yeah, I said something mean and untrue. Completely untrue, but you discouraged me." He stated.

"You didn't deserve any of it. Not any of it. I'm sorry."

"Whatever, Adam."

"It's not whatever." He grabbed the bottle of alcohol, taking a drink. "Your liver's gonna give out on you one of these days."

"Wouldn't that be a shame." He smiled. "I'm sorry for bothering you last night. Maybe things would have gone different...given another situation." I bit my lip, nodding. "But, Adam..." he shook his head.

"I'm really sorry, okay?" He nodded. I kissed the side of his head, feeling him relax a little. "I do love you, by the way. I don't know what that means to you, but it's a fact." He didn't say anything, just took another drink. "Where did you end up going last night, honestly?"

"Honestly?" I nodded. He cleared his throat, then mumbled, "I, uh, slept in your backyard." I laughed, loud, drawing attention. "Where else was I supposed to go? The freeway?"

"You're too pretty for the freeway, gorgeous." He rolled his eyes, trying not to smile.

"Well, I have no idea what was going on when you put on your makeup this morning, but you look like a hooker." I scoffed. He mimicked me. "Two dollar whore." He smiled, standing without letting go of the bottle, then skipped – he _skipped_ – off to talk to people.

"You're dead, Thomas."

"Don't call me that!"

"You called me a hooker!" People laughed around him, seeing that oh-so-rare smile of his.

"I said you looked like a hooker, Babyboy, never said you were one. I mean, you sleep around enough to-" but he stopped talking when I stood and ran after him.

"Bastard!" I yelled, hearing his laugh. "You little fucker!"

"At least I don't fuck everything that moves!" He responded.

"I do not!" My arms then wrapped around his teeny, tiny, cute little waist, grabbing him tightly. "Silly Thomas Joseph. Pretty sure you screwed around more on tour than I did. Including your multiple make out sessions with fans. Classy."

He just giggled as I kissed the side of his head again.


	3. Business

After our hour long practice, I was giddy. Tommy was smiling, something we all rarely saw. And, basically, I just loved being with these people. "Let's go home guys." I declared.

After saying this, people agreed, but I saw Tommy's face falter, his smile disappearing at once. I walked to him, cupping his jaw, making him look at me. "Just go to my house." I told him. He looked at me in disbelief. "I'm serious. Go to my house, I'll be there in a little while."

"Where are you going-"

"Don't worry about it." He looked at me suspiciously, as if he knew. "I'm not doing anything, so don't look at me like that."

"Don't do it. I know what you're planning, but it's best if you don't, Adam." I kinked my head to the side. "Don't go to my apartment. I mean it, don't." I dropped his face.

"I wasn't gonna-"

"But you were. I'm telling you, you don't want to."

"Why can't I?"

"Because it's not worth it. Not like it's your business, anyway." He said, walking away.

"I'll see you later!" I called out as he walked toward the door, opening it, his bass in its case over his back. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, the door shutting behind him. I sighed, grabbing my keys, leaving in the door on the other side of the building.

I knew as I drove on the road to his apartment that I shouldn't be doing this. He was right, it wasn't my business, but it was hurting him. Tommy was my friend and I couldn't just sit around and let this happen. He'd be pissed when he found out, but he had a tendency to get over things fairly fast.

I parked my car next to the sidewalk in front of the building. The apartment wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible either. I stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind me and locking it, slipping glasses over my eyes before I could be recognized.

I opened the door to the lobby of the building, climbing up the stairs, getting to the fourth floor. Seeing the door, I walked to it, taking a deep breath before knocking.

I heard noise on the other side as I looked at the ceiling, then heard the door open. "Adam?"

I looked forward, faking a smile. "Hey,"

"What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

"Actually, no." I stated.

"What's up?"

"Pretty positive you know exactly what's up. I need answers." I told him.

"To what?"

"Why the hell did you kick out Tommy?" I asked. Confusion crossed his face as I raised my eyebrows.

"That's what he told you?" I nodded slowly. "Come in, Adam."

I followed Tommy's roommate into the small apartment. It was clean – smelled clean, looked clean, and had to have been done after Tommy had left. I sat down on their red couch, looking at the obnoxious orange walls they had painted despite their landlord's objections.

"We didn't kick out Tommy, Adam. He left."

"He left?" He nodded. "Why?"

"We were all gone, he left a note saying 'left'," he told me, using air quotes, "and his room was empty. We didn't kick him out, he chose to move. Couldn't tell you why, thought everything was going great." I bit my lip. "Where's he been, anyway?"

"When did he move?"

"About a week ago." He stated.

"Well, right now, he's at my place. He came to my house, wasted, hammered, telling me I fucked up his life last night. Tommy said that you guys had a fight." I told him.

"You need to get the information out of him, then. And tell him to come back." I nodded. "See ya', Adam." He said before walking into his room, closing the door.

I let myself out, walking down the stairs. When I got outside, leaning against my car was a small, blonde boy.

Tommy had his sunglasses over his face – as usual – a shirt of mine on his small body and wearing the same jeans he was wearing before. He was looking at me, his arms crossed. I shook my head. "Didn't do anything wrong."

"This isn't your business." He told me.

"Then why did you tell me about it?" I questioned. He looked at his feet.

"It has nothing to do with you. It's between them and me. Not you."

"Correction; you have to do with me."

Head shooting up, "How exactly is that? Because I'm pretty sure there's nothing going on with us. I have nothing to do with you, you have nothing to do with me. What your problem is is you can't mind your own fucking business."

"You're my friend-"

"I realize." He interrupted.

"-and I care about you."

"That doesn't mean you can interrogate my roommates about my whereabouts."

"But I did it anyway, and given another chance, I'd do it again." He sighed, walking toward his car parked behind mine. "I'm doing it because I love you, Tommy."

"Your doing it because I'm your friend and you automatically think that means I'm your possession, but you're wrong. What happens in my personal life doesn't concern you, Adam. If I ask you for advice, give it to me and leave it.

"I don't care how much you think you love me, Adam, this is my life and it has nothing to do with you."

"I was just trying to help."

"I think you've done far fucking enough, thanks." He said, annoyed.

"'M sorry." I mumbled.

"Whatever. See you in a few, I guess." I sighed, walking around my car as he started his and drove off.

Tommy Joe Ratliff was the _hardest_ man to understand. I rolled my eyes, starting my car and following after him.


	4. Confusion

When I got home, Tommy was lying on my couch on his stomach, his feet in the air, drinking cheap beer I only bought in case he was over. When he heard me, he looked at me as if I was being too loud, then back at the TV.

He was watching a horror movie, of course, with lots of blood, lots of screaming. "God, turn that shit off." I complained, sitting in a chair next to him.

"Kiss my ass." He said, throwing an empty beer can at me. He grabbed another from the floor, opening it with a loud pop. I rolled my eyes, throwing it in the garbage next to me.

"I'd love to." I remarked, a smirk on my lips.

"Perv." I laughed.

"You're the suggestive one, darling." He looked at me, taking the remote to pause the movie.

Pausing made me nervous, I had to admit. "Adam," he said. "What if...I did want something like that?" I just looked at him, my jaw going slack. "What if I wanted to have sex with you?"

"T-Tommy, I-I," I swallowed, my mouth dry.

The mental image of this small, adorable, hot blonde beneath me, screaming my name, lying in my bed, his almost white hair thrown against the red pillows was enough to drive me insane. Not like I hadn't thought it before, but still, this was intense.

"What would you say?"

"Tommy-"

"Answer the question." His cheeks were growing red. "Please."

"It depends on if that's what you really wanted."

"Do you want me, Adam?" He asked. "Honestly."

"Yes." My voice was sharp. He nodded, looking at his hands, then at the TV. He took a deep breath, then pressed play on the movie.

My mouth was a desert, my palms sweating. I was nervous. He made me nervous.

No one made me nervous. I was Adam fucking Lambert, I didn't get nervous. Fucking shit, why was he making this happen?

He took a sip of his beer, eyes glued to the black and white film. I bit my lip, standing and walking out of the room. I braced my hands on the sink, trying to clear my head.

 _Think of dead puppies or some shit_ , I told myself. _God, think of vaginas or tits or some shit._

"Adam?" Tommy's voice yelled from the living room, making me jump out of my skin. "Can you grab me another beer? Please!" I sighed, opening the fridge.

I walked to him, handing him the beer, when his tattooed arm grabbed my wrist and he stood, looking up at me.

"I make you wonder what it would be like." He stated. "What I'd look like, sweaty, sprawled out in your sheets, begging for you. I make you want to know what it'd be like to open up that virgin ass of mine." My toes were curling and I licked my lips. "But you won't take that chance. You're worried about me, aren't you?"

I didn't even nod before his lips were on mine, crushing my will power. Yes, we'd kissed a lot before. He was a great kisser, I knew, but this was different. I pulled away. "No, Tommy. Stop. You don't want me. You like girls, I like boys. You like pussy, I don't."

"I like you, Adam."

"But you don't! You're confused, I get that, everyone's confused at one point in their life."

"I'm not confused!"

"Tommy, no. Just stop." He glared at me. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

I walked out of the room, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. He was right. He was so right. That was exactly what I wanted. That was exactly what I dreamed of.

But I couldn't put myself in that line of fire. If something went wrong, it could ruin a lot of shit. I also didn't want him to get hurt, because I knew I had that ability.

I heard the front door slam, a car start, then a car burnout onto the street. Biting my lip, I looked out my bedroom window at his retreating car.

I wasn't going to give into this because I didn't want to be a regret. I didn't want him to hate me because I wasn't sure I could lose him and be okay with it.

 _Silly straight boys._ I thought. _They have to go and make everything so fucking difficult._

I had fallen for straight boys before – not to point any fingers – but I always knew that it was just a little crush. This thing with Tommy, though? It was different.

Hours after I had already fallen asleep, I heard the door creak open, then clip shut. Light footsteps, then the beam of light as my bedroom door opened. Tommy's small feet scampered across my floor, then stopped next to my bed. "Go to sleep, Tommy." I muttered.

"Adam, please?" I opened my eyes, staring into his brown ones.

He was so undeniably gorgeous. His hair falling into his face, his eyes open wide. His lips were glossed pink, eyes coated in dark liner. I nodded, ignoring that loud voice in my head telling me to say no. I scooted over as he turned off the hall light and I lifted back the blanket.

His small body fit perfectly into mine, his face nuzzling into my chest, arms tight around my waist. After a few minutes of playing with his hair lightly, holding him to me, I heard a light snore. I smiled, kissing his forehead and he unconsciously moved closer.

I just laid there, listening to him breathe, feeling his soft hair between my fingers. I worried about this boy more than I healthily should, more than I'd ever intended to.

And I wasn't sure whether that worry would make me closer to Tommy, or push him farther away. All I knew was that I had to watch my back around him, to be sure I wasn't caught off guard.


	5. Coffee

I woke up to the blaring of my cell phone from my bedside table. I rubbed my face, eyes fluttering open, just as an almost microscopic blonde whined from under the mountain of blankets covering him.

I could only see his face – mushed up, resting against the red pillow – the rest of his body engulfed in five black blankets. I, on the other hand, had lost all coverage throughout the night.

"Adam, answer the phone or I will stab you." He mumbled, not even moving. I sighed, grabbing it in my palm.

"Yeah?" I answered, annoyed.

"Is that any way to greet your mother?" I smiled.

"Sorry. You just woke me up is all."

"Adam fucking Lambert, I am trying to sleep!" The blonde beside me muttered, kicking my in the stomach.

"Who was that?" My mom asked as I regained my air.

"No one." She didn't say anything, just waiting for a better answer.

"Get the fuck out of this room, Adam. I am sleeping." He complained.

"Is that Tommy?" My mother question.

"I, uh," I sputtered. A hand grabbed my jaw, pulling me down to Tommy's face.

His eyes were open, hand tight – bruising – and he was baring his teeth. "So, you won't have sex with me, yet I let you irritate the hell out of me anyway?" He asked loudly.

My mother laughed. She heard. Fuck me...

I stood and he dropped his hand – not before letting it slide down the front of my sweatpants, making him smirk – and I walked out of the room. "Do you need something?" I asked her.

"Why is Tommy at your house, sleeping in your bed?" I sighed.

"Because." I stated.

"Because? I better get a different answer, Adam."

"Because I'm a grown man and I can make my own decisions."

"Adam."

"Because he doesn't have anywhere else to live."

"And you don't have a guest room?" I bit my lip, staying quiet. "You're going to get hurt."

"Don't."

"As your mother, I have the right to say this. And I'm telling you that you messing around with that straight boy won't end well."

"I'm not doing anything I'm not already prepared for." I told her.

"Don't get hurt."

"I won't." She hummed lightly, not trusting this. "Why did you call?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out for coffee with me. I'm in town." I dropped my head back, running a hand over my face.

"When?"

"Half hour?"

"M'kay." I agreed.

"Bring Tommy."

"I-" There was a dial tone. That woman...

I walked back into my room, seeing a blonde boy with make up rubbed around his eyes, snoring while cuddled into my pillow. I smiled, walking closer to him.

I brushed the fringe out of his eyes, making him lean toward my hand. I kissed his forehead. "Go away." He told me.

"My mother wants to see us." His brown eyes shot open. I grinned. "In a half hour, so get ready."

"I'm not going." I nodded.

"Yeah, you don't really have a choice." He glared at me. "Whether you're ready or not, you're going with me. I'll drag you out by your hair." He flipped me off. I laughed.

"Get up. It's just my mom." I pleaded. He sat up, still clutching my pillow. "I'll pay for your coffee and whatever else you want. Just come with me."

"I asked you to _come_ with me yesterday and you freaked." He smirked. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not having sex with you because you don't want that. I refuse to be an experiment, Tommy. Just get ready." He nodded, dropping my pillow and going to the guest room.

Twenty minutes later, I was waiting at the door. "Let's go, Tommy Joe." He walked out of the guest room.

God, I would never be able to comprehend how gorgeous he was. His lips were glossy and pink, the lower one clamped down on nervously by his teeth. His golden hair playing in his eyelashes and when he blinked, it moved. His eyes were lined in black, but the lids were light pink. I bit my lip, opening the door and allowing him through.

"You were totally just checking me out, Lambert." He murmured to me as we sat in the car. I bit my tongue, staying silent. "I don't want to see your mom right now." He whined.

"Why?"

"Because I have this hunch that she doesn't like me."

"She likes you. She just doesn't trust you." I clarified.

"Same thing." I shook my head. "Why doesn't she trust me?"

"I don't know." I knew. It was because she knew I had fallen hard for this guy and he wasn't ever going to be mine and it was slowly killing me. "Don't worry about it, though. Never take her seriously."

He didn't say anything, just opened my glove compartment and began digging.

"And you're doing this because...?"

"I like to bother you." He stated. I shrugged.

He began pulling out napkins, a phone book, then a map. Then his face lit up. "Whatever you found, put it back."

He pulled out a container of lube, as well as condoms. I rolled my eyes and saw he was laughing uncontrollably. "So mature, Tommy Joe." He was clutching his stomach, gasping for air and laughing soundlessly. "Stop laughing." I said, pulling up to the curb of a Starbucks. My mother walked from her spot next to the building, smiling.

I grabbed the items in Tommy's skinny fingers, trying to reopen the compartment. It was stuck and he laughed harder as my mother walked closer. He had tears streaming down his face as I threw them in the backseat, my mother reaching the window.

Her eyebrows raised – as I was still leaned on Tommy's lap. Tommy continued to laugh. I bit my lip, shaking my head. "Do I want to know?" She asked. I shook my head. He laughed, but it slowed and quieted.

"You are the most immature person I have ever met." I mumbled to him as we walked inside. He giggled. "How is that even funny?"

"Because you were all big and bad saying I wasn't mature, then the second you see your mom you freaked. It was funny, like your mom could have punished you." I watched him walk up to the counter then, his tight pants squeezing his thighs.

Licking my lower lip, then biting down on it, he turned to me and smirked. I blushed, walking up and standing next to him. "Smooth." He said.

My mom was already sitting at a table and we walked up – Tommy with screaming hot coffee and a million other things, me with a plain black coffee. "So, Tommy, what have you been up to lately?" She asked him.

"Uh, nothing really."

One of the many things about Tommy was, when he talked to people, he was the most awkward person to be around. He stuttered and avoided all eye contact, making those around him feel like we were making him uncomfortable. It happened all the time.

"Adam told me you're living with him. Why's that?" I sighed gently.

"Well, uh, this, um, things weren't, you know, working out with my roommates anymore." He stated. She nodded. He took a sip of his coffee, eyes searching the room to escape the conversation.

"Mom, how have you been?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Great."

"Great." I stated, feeling Tommy's eyes on my face. "What have you been up to?"

Then she launched into a huge, long story that I didn't really care about, but it took the attention off Tommy. The story ended with this, "And your father told me to tell you he wants you and Tommy to go out to dinner with him tonight."

My eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"I don't know. Just do it."

"I will, but he's not going." I said, pointing to the blonde next to me.

"Why not?"

"Because I already dragged him here with your crazy ass." She scoffed. "Don't scoff. We both know you made me bring him because you're nosy."

Tommy wasn't listening. Instead he was playing with his phone, sipping his coffee, looking like he was doing anything not to listen. My mother shrugged. "I'd bring him, if I were you."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't your dad will get more suspicious."

I pondered on this, weighing pros and cons.

As we were leaving, I knew in my head I wasn't bringing him. I opened his car door for him as my mother drove away. He looked up at me, hair in front of one brown eye. "I want to go." He stated.

I sighed, nodding.

It was going to be a very long day.


	6. Talk

The entire way home, Tommy was yammering. Way too much coffee, I suppose. I sighed. "You seem annoyed. Are you annoyed? Do you not want me to go tonight? I won't if you don't want. I mean, I won't do anything dumb. I'll be nice. Your dad may not like me though. Do you think he'll like me? Not like it matters. I mean, it would matter, but, like, you know, it doesn't."

"Stop talking."

"I'm sorry." Quiet for a few seconds. "Do you have nail polish at your house? 'Cause I need to do my nails. I'm sure you do, you paint yours more than me. But you also have yours done by someone else because you're all famous and whatnot. I want more coffee. You have coffee at your place? Betcha ya' do. I mean, you drink coffee.

"If you drink coffee, why are your teeth so white? Do you bleach them? I hate bleaching my teeth, it tastes so bad. But I do it every once in a while. Not like it makes a difference, I never smile anyway. People wonder why. I say it makes me seem mysterious." I rubbed my temples as we sat at a stoplight. "Am I talking too much?"

"Yes!"

"My bad." He bit his lip, looking around. Then he leaned forward, turning on the radio, switching through channels. First he stopped on Nickleback, then shook his head at the too slow tempo. Then he stopped when Steven Tyler's voice blared through the speakers. "You should try and meet him sometime." Tommy stated.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! And take me with you, of course."

"Seems I can't go anywhere without you, Tommy." He tried not to smile. "Why are you so hyper?" I asked.

"I ordered this special coffee and it's spicy and shit and it has a ton of caffeine in it. Damn Mexican coffee." He muttered.

"Why would you order that?"

"It's good!"

"And spicy?"

"Caliente!" He shouted, then broke of into giggles and snorts. I grinned.

"Just call you Tommy Hernandez." He laughed harder, covering his smile. Tyler's voice faded out and Tommy's laughter died down.

Then, of course, in the most cliche way possible, I heard the intro to one of my songs on the radio. Instinct took over and tapped the button, silencing the car. "Why don't you want to hear yourself?"

"It gets old. I appreciate being on there, I do, but it's...weird."

"It's only weird if you make yourself think it is, Adam." I shrugged. "It's a big deal."

"I know that. It's not that I don't love hearing my voice on the radio. It's that...I know how many other people are driving through Cali right now turning it off because they don't want to hear me."

"This? Coming from the man who inspires kids to love themselves? The one who said, and I quote, 'If you give them the power to effect you, you're letting them win, and they don't deserve that.'?" He asked, using air quotes. "You're letting them win, Adam." I shook my head.

"Not letting them win. Just giving myself the opportunity to be weak when they can't see me. We all have moments to allow ourselves to be weak, Tommy."

"But over your music?"

"It doesn't matter what it's over. It's the way it happens. Why does it matter, anyway? Doesn't have anything to do with you." I muttered.

"I don't know. Because I feel like I could help."

"You do help, Tommy. With a lot of things. Because I know that no matter what you say, no matter what I say, or what happens between us, you'll always be there for me." He smiled.

"Just don't let people stop you from being proud of yourself, okay?" He told me and I nodded. "You deserve to be happy." He stated.

For a second, it was like he wasn't talking about the music anymore. He was talking in general. That all he wanted was me to be happy. I looked at him, seeing him staring into my eyes. "You deserve to be happy, too, Tommy."

"You make me happy, but you don't see it." We were at my house now, sitting in the car in the heat of the late morning. "You think I'm confused, but I'm not. I know what I want and what I want is you."

"You have no idea what that means. I can't just fuck you and go back to friends, Tommy. It's all or nothing, and you're not ready for everything. You've never been in a relationship with someone like me. Or even a man, for that matter. You need to think about this." I told him.

"I've been thinking about it! For the last six months!"

"And you're still not ready!" I screamed back. He shook his head, glaring. I got out of the car, walking into the house. "Be ready by six."

"I don't want to go."

"You're going. You don't have a choice."

"Who the fuck died and made you ruler of everything?" He yelled at me and I walked into the door, slamming it behind me. "Adam, you can't just walk away."

He was following me. Into my room we went and he closed my door, locking it quietly. "I'm not having sex with you, Tommy."

"When was the last time you kissed me without feeling something?"

"Honestly? I've never kissed you without feeling something, Tommy. But that doesn't mean we're ready for this. Either of us. Neither of us are ready for this."

"So it's all about you, right? All your decision."

"I'm not willing to hurt you."

"I'm not willing to care about my feelings."

"Can we talk about this later, please?" I asked finally facing him.

He walked to me briskly.

His hand wrapped around my neck, pulling my face down. Our lips crashed, my eyes screwed shut. Tongue intruding my mouth, I let go. It wasn't worth it right now.

All that mattered was Tommy. The bubblegum taste of his lip gloss, his silk hair between my fingers. The way his soft tongue caressed the insides of my mouth. His small body against mine, his small body controlling mine.

I pulled the back of his hair, knowing how he'd react. A moan racked through his throat and he pulled away, his brown eyes black and sparkling.

I'd fucked up.

This wasn't going to work.

I was going to hurt him.

He was going to cry over me.

But as he kissed me again, the thoughts were canceled out of my brains.


	7. Don't

Kissing Tommy.

This I was used to. This I had done plenty of time previous.

This was going to end our friendship by making it crazily awkward or crazily sex enraged.

As he looped his arms around my waist, hanging off of me, it didn't matter. I sat on my makeup counter, lying down and disregarding the eyeliners and eye shadows smashing into my back. He pushed my jacket off my shoulders, wrapping his slim fingers around my neck.

I knew I should stop this. I had to. I would only hurt him.

 _Make it stop._ I thought to myself, only to deepen the kiss. It was like I could feel him praying I wouldn't push him away.

So, as I sat up, breaking the kiss, he whimpered. "Please don't." He sounded like a child, with his parents threatening to break his favorite toy in front of him. "Don't, Adam. Please. Don't." He rambled as I stared at my feet.

He placed his hands on my cheeks and I shook my head. "No, Tommy. That can't-"

"Please don't!"

"I-"

"Don't fucking make excuses. You kissed me."

"You kissed me."

"Don't fucking do this!" He screamed.

I could hear the tears in his voice. "You aren't ready for this."

"You have no idea what I'm ready for, Adam!"

"I'm not willing to put your feelings in front of mine."

"I am. I want this. I want you. I want you and me. I want to be yours, and kiss you whenever I want, and love you. That's it. I'm not asking you to die for me."

 _Might as well be._ I muttered in my head. "Why can't you see this from where I stand?"

"Because where you stand shouldn't exist. You should just want this."

"I do want this." I took my chances and looked up at his face.

His face was streaked with black tears, his hair covering his eye. He was staring at me. "Why are you so afraid of hurting me?" He asked.

"You're too important for me to lose. If I make you angry enough, or sad enough, or if I scare you, you'll leave. If you leave, I'll drive myself insane. I'd rather you hate me for not having sex with you than hate me for doing something when I knew you weren't ready." I told him.

He kissed my forehead. "I wish you would trust me on this one thing. The one thing I know in life, Adam, is that I want to be with you. Whatever that entails. You're the one who isn't ready for this. Don't blame me, don't say I'm at fault. Man up and admit that you're afraid of me hurting you." He demanded.

"I'm afraid you'll hurt me." He nodded at this.

"I won't." He muttered. "I couldn't if I tried. And believe me, I have tried. But I can't hurt you. I refuse to let myself." He told me. I felt tears in my eyes, staring at my knees.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For fucking with your head. For telling you things I shouldn't have. For not allowing myself to just be with you. I'm sorry." I murmured.

Tommy's blonde head shook, but he didn't say anything about my apology. "I'll see you in a few hours. Just...can you promise me something?" I nodded. "Promise me you won't give up on this. That you'll try." I leaned up, my lips brushing with his lightly.

"I promise." I stated. His lips curved, pressing tighter to mine.

Then he left, closing my door quietly. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. I stood up, looking down at my makeup table. On it were smears of brown and black eyeliners, as well as rainbow shades of eyeshadow. I sighed.

I didn't know what I was going to do, honestly. I was terrified. Of hurting, of being hurt, of being alone because I'd no doubt lose him. I hated feeling this afraid of just doing something. I didn't know why I did this to myself all the time. I deserved to be happy.

But Tommy deserved to be happy, too. And despite his statement, I was still afraid of hurting him. I took another deep breath.

My mind flipped back to kissing Tommy. I grinned. No matter how many complications it projected, I loved having his lips on mine. The taste of his mouth, the feeling of his long fingers threading into my hair. His fists around my jacket in need. The lust and heat of the moment, the want of so much me.

So why was I being so stubborn about this? Why couldn't I just let myself be happy? I wanted him. I wanted him to make me smile. I wanted his pros and I wanted his cons. I wanted all of him, always.

 __

Get it through your thick skull, Lambert, you'll just end up losing him. I bitterly stated in my head. Maybe, though, maybe the temporary happiness would make that livable.

I'd lose my own argument eventually.

I sighed, sitting down in front of my mirror and selecting my unbroken makeup. I needed to be calm. I needed to think about this in a rational matter.

 _You need Tommy._ I smiled at the thought of this.


	8. Burned

I got ready, taking my time, my heart breaking as I threw away my crushed makeup.

Smears of a new tube of eyeliner, the smell of leather, the feeling of foundation on my skin. I smiled. I loved pampering myself – even though it wasn't a rare treat. I just enjoyed making myself... pretty.

The pretty thought lead me to Tommy, who was the prettiest, smallest, snuggliest man I knew of. It was adorable, one of the things I loved most about him. The cuddling was at an extreme when he was drinking, too. The amount of times he's curled up on my lap with a beer in his hand.... I grinned at the thought.

I loved how he moved against me. The way we just...fit together. Like a puzzle. Like a fucked up puzzle no one wanted to actually play with.

But God, he was so wonderful. His soft hair – which he'd admittedly died blonde after telling me, "I heard you had a thing for blondes," - his pale, silk skin. I loved his lips, his bright brown eyes. The way he never smiled – the way he smiled. Everything.

I was snapped out of my thoughts an hour later when Tommy opened my bedroom door, closing it and leaning against the black wall beside it. "I'm not going." He muttered.

"Why is that?" I asked, walking to him.

"Because," he murmured.

"Because why?" He looked up. "Oh."

Across his left cheek was a big red line, thick, swelling. "I burned my face."

"With what?" I asked, panicking. "You need to put ice on that!"

"My hair straightener. It slipped out of my hand." I grabbed his arm, pulling him to the kitchen. I got some ice from the freezer, putting it in a towel and holding it to his face. "Fuck!" He hit me in the chest, knocking air out of me.

"Damn it, Tommy! Would you just let me take care of you?"

"I'm older than you, I can do whatever I want!" He argued. I raised my eyebrows.

"You're living in my house. You want to get into my pants. I'm, like, a foot taller than you. I will win any argument you make." He pouted, grabbing my wrist and pressing the ice harder to his face. "You all right?" He shrugged. "Please come with me."

"I can't. I have a huge deformation on my-" I cut him off.

"You're beautiful. Please."

"No."

"Why? Why not? Because you're afraid of what you look like? Tommy, it's my dad! The dad who caught his son watching gay porn at twelve. Whose son was two hundred some pounds in high school. Tommy, I grew up with acne, with weight issues, with nappy orange hair. Don't think for a second that burn is going to change his view on you." I stated.

"But I-"

"Just come with me. We can cover this up, it'll be fine." He sighed, his plump lips flushing out with the air.

"I'm not good at making conversation."

"I'll do that for you. Just join in."

"There's nothing your dad and I would have in common." I smiled. "Don't smile."

"You're so fucking adorable." He pushed me away, holding the ice to his face.

"My face hurts." He muttered. "And I still have to do my makeup." We walked back to the guest room, where he had already trashed and ruined everything.

"You are a tornado, I swear." He smirked.

"My mom always called me Tornado Tommy growing up."

Tommy didn't talk much about his family. Ever. Like, honestly, the only time I heard about them was when his dad passed away in August. After he realized what he said, his face fell. "Why don't you talk about them?"

"Who?"

"Your family." I murmured, walking up behind him, resting my hands on his hips.

"I do. All the time." He lied. I shook my head. "Why does it matter?"

"You should talk about them."

"But I don't want to talk about them." He stated.

"Why?"

"Because I don't." I stared at him in the mirror as he applied eyeliner. "They...they wouldn't like you." He muttered.

"Meaning?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Adam."

"No I don't." I argued, even though I did.

"My parents are the biggest homophobes known to man." He declared, pushing his hair out of his face to apply eyeshadow. I stared at him. "And when I auditioned for you, they got mad at me. Real mad." I didn't know what to say. "And when they heard about the constant kissing on stage, they were even more upset."

"But you saw them in August."

"Yeah. My mom didn't even look at me, Adam. My sister cared, she always loved me. As did everyone else. But my mom...she just doesn't get it."

"O-Oh." I just gaped at him. Why hadn't I ever heard this before?

"It doesn't matter anyway."

"It kind of does, Tommy."

"No, it doesn't. Whether she likes or accepts you or not, I still want to be with you." He told me, applying foundation to the burn, flinching.

"If you're with me, then she won't accept you, Tommy. And I don't have the heart to do that to you." He faced me abruptly.

"Don't say that. I don't care about her."

"You do or otherwise you wouldn't have kept this from me." He sighed.

"Does it really matter? I can't please everyone, nor do I plan on trying. All I want in my life is to make myself happy. You're what makes me happy."

I smiled, kissing the tip of his nose. "We'll talk about it later. Maybe."

An hour later, we were in my car. Tommy's burn was showing, but I didn't have the heart to tell him. "I'm tired." He muttered.

"It's a little too late to try and get out of this, Tommy." He pouted. "My dad's not that bad!"

"He's not bad at all, I'm just...so awkward." I laughed. He punched my arm.

"Don't hit me!"

"You just wait. I'll end you, Babyboy." I smiled.

"You know what I think is funny?" I asked him. He looked at me. "That you can have arms coated in tattoos, yet you bun your face and you can no longer find it necessary to live." He laughed.

"Tattoos don't hurt." I stared at him like he was crazy, seeing his soft complexion, his juicy lips, his eyes staring into mine. "Quit gawking at me, you'll crash the car." I laughed. He pulled down the visor, flipping up a cover and staring into the mirror. "Why did you tell me how bad I looked?" He yelled.

"Because you look wonderful to me."

"No, not an acceptable answer." I shrugged. I pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, shutting off the car.

He looked like he was on the brink of tears. One thing about Tommy – he rarely cried. As of late, though, he cried more often. "Hey, don't cry." He didn't look at me. "Tommy,"

"I'm not crying. I don't cry."

"You do cry, and I want to know why you're crying right now."

"I'm not crying!"

"You're yelling, which means you feel the need to defend yourself."

"Adam, just stop."

"Why are you crying?" I didn't stop.

"Your parents don't think I'm good for you."

"Irrelevant."

"Not irrelevant."

"Is that why you're upset?" I asked, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He just nodded. "My parents don't believe anyone is good enough for me. They do like you, though. A lot."

"Not like it matters anyway."

"'Course it matters."

"We'll never date, Adam, because you don't trust me. So what does it matter who likes me or not? It's indifferent." I shook my head.

"Would you stop?"

"Stop what? Stop stating what I know? You aren't interested in a relationship. I am."

"I'm not talking to you about this right now."

"Aw, little Adam's afraid of a grown up conversation?"

"Condescending asshole." I muttered, staring at the steering wheel.

"At least I can man up enough to say what I want." I opened my car door, getting out and slamming it, walking away from the car.

I heard him follow me. I asked the waitress about my dad and she lead me to a table where he was sitting, sipping a water.

 _This is going to be a long night._ I stated in my head as Tommy – all for show – slipped his hand in mine and pinched the skin residing on my left thumb.


	9. Dinner

Sitting down at the table next to Tommy, across from my father, anger flared. Tommy's small hand was still clutching mine. I tried yanking it away, but he leaned over and punched my leg with his other fist. I bit my lip, trying to ignore the ache.

"Tommy, how are you?" My dad asked.

"I'm great. Yourself?" Tommy had his awkward voice. It was high pitched, always sounded happy – yet sounded unsure. Like he was giving false answers and asking the wrong questions.

Usually, I'd find it adorable. Now I just wanted to push him over. "I'm wonderful. So, uh, what happened to your face?" I tried not to smile.

"I dropped my straightening iron...on my face...and it burned me." I sputtered out a laugh and he glared at me.

"Sorry." I muttered insincerely. "Dad, what have you been up to?"

He started rambling on and on – much like my mother had this morning – about life. I was just happy we were both ignoring the asshole-ish blonde I was sitting near.

Tommy seemed content with it, sipping a beer, twiddling his thumbs and staring blankly at the the table cloth. The waitress – who knew who I was and had ferociously fangirled when she saw me – repeatedly checked out Tommy as he ordered, getting flustered when he spoke.

As she walked away, my father took the liberty of embarrassing him further. "You know, I think that girl has a thing for you, Tommy Joe." He gaped.

"Well, uh..."

"Why don't you talk to her? She seemed nice." My father, ever the intrusive one.

"Well, I'm kind of, sort of not necessarily single at the moment, sir." Tommy stated.

"Who are you with, then?" Why was he doing this? Tommy's face looked panicked.

"Dad, just leave him alone." I blurted. They both looked at me. Tommy seemed relieved, my dad seemed irritated. "He obviously doesn't want to talk about his relationships with his boss's father. It's not your business, anyway."

"It is my business." I cocked my head to the side. "When I hear a straight boy has intentions with my son, it tend to become my business. It's not safe for either of you, and I intend on telling you that."

"Dad-"

"Uh, excuse me?" Tommy interrupted. "I've never once said I was straight. To either of you. Both of you are the ones assuming this, and I'm just so done with letting it pass.

"It's all been a cover. I've told everyone I was straight my whole life to avoid confrontation about it. It made things easier for the time being. But now, sitting here with you two who both refuse to fucking trust me because of this...I feel slightly obligated to tell you that I'm not straight. I've never been straight.

"I like boys just as much as I like girls. I love Adam. I'm also so fucking sick and tired of being put in situations like this. What's it matter to either of you what I do in bed? If I love someone, it shouldn't matter what I prefer. So, thank you both for being complete and udder jackasses. Much appreciated."

Tommy stood, walking away from the table after throwing his napkin off his lap and onto the table. My heart had sunk along with my face. Shit. I'd fucked up. I'd made him feel bad, even after I'd been in the same position as he had, I'd been careless and heartless. I was a bastard. I hated myself.

I stood, following him into the bathroom. He had locked himself in a stall as I entered the bathroom. "Tommy,"

"Go away, Adam. You're the last person I want to talk to."

A man in a black suit left the bathroom after drying his hands, leaving just Tommy and me. "Pretty sure my dad's the last person you want to talk to." I heard him sniffle. I leaned over to the door, locking it. "Please, come out here."

"No." I sighed.

"Please?"

"Why?"

"Because I need to talk to you, and I'd prefer not to do it through a bathroom stall." I leaned against the wall near the door as I heard the stall lock click and the black door open, reviling a tiny blonde.

He refused to look at me. "I really don't know what to say." He hiccuped.

"Why didn't you say something before?"

"Because you never gave me the chance."

"I gave you plenty of fucking chances."

"When? When the fuck were you listening to me long enough to care? You've never cared! About anything but yourself!"

"That's not true, Tommy, and you fucking know it." I growled, glaring at him.

"It feels true. It feels like you don't care. It feels like I'm alone. It feels like you'll never love me. It feels like no one will ever understand. Whether it's the truth or not doesn't change the way I feel." He finally looked up at me. His brown eyes were pouring out tears, his chin quivering, his face truly bothered.

"Tommy-"

"Don't give me a pep talk about how I'm not alone, Adam." He told me.

I just walked toward him, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him tightly to me. His body went rigged before I kissed his hair. He relaxed into my arms and tears stained the shoulder of my shirt. "I love you." I told him.

He sobbed. For the first time, I actually heard him completely break. His body shook with sobs, his fists around clumps of my shirt. He continued to cry, his sobs growing louder and stronger every time I spoke. "Tommy?" A small squeak of a sob. Improvement. "Should we leave?"

He nodded. He pulled away, looking at his face in the mirror. Eyes bloodshot, cheeks with black tear streaks. Not to mention that God awful burn. "I look like shit." He murmured.

"You're perfect." He shook his head. Wiping his face with wet paper towel, he avoided my glance. "Meet me in the car. Go out back, avoid the inevitable paparazzi. I'll tell my dad." He nodded and I kissed his forehead.

I left the bathroom after unlocking the door, walking to the table where my dad no longer was. I raised my eyebrows, searching the room. He was sitting at the bar, watching some football game. I tapped him on his shoulder and he turned.

"Uh, hey."

"You know I never meant to make him angry, right?" He asked quickly. I nodded.

"Of course." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Anyway, Tommy and I are going to head out." He nodded.

"Adam?"

"Yes?"

"I-I know I'm probably not the first person you want to hear this from, but – make sure you don't rush things with him. He's a good guy, he's definitely isn't as experienced as you. Don't scare him off – you have the tendency to do so." I rolled my eyes. "Don't roll your eyes. He's good for you, don't lose him."

I smiled and nodded. We hugged, and I exited out the front of the restaurant stupidly. I was swarmed by bright lights and shouting. Holy shit, I would never get used to this. I just smiled and played nice, attempting to find my shiny, black Mustang somewhere in this fucking lot.

I did, eventually, getting in and maneuvering my way around running people over. Tommy was quiet in the passenger's seat. "Shit, I have to stop for gas." I muttered, pulling into a station a few minutes later. "And of course I can't pay out here, that would be far too easy."

Why did this have to be so inconvenient? I sighed. Minutes later as I was walking into the store, a small hand slipped into mine and Tommy's body leaned into mine. I smiled. We walked through the doors and Tommy vanished from beside me, walking toward a candy section.

I shook my head, following him. I smiled at seeing him grabbing multiple bags of candy. "Tommy."

"Did you really think I was going to talk all night without some candy first?" I laughed. He shoved the bags into my arms, then walked away. I walked up to the counter, setting them down and paying for the many items.

Walking out to the car, I set the bag in his lap and he grinned at me. "Tommy?" I asked.

"I love you." He stated. I bit my lip, starting the car and driving off.


	10. Bedroom

The entire drive home, Tommy was talking about anything but the restaurant incident. And it was understandable, so I let him ramble on.

"I hate the color orange." He stated. "Like, it is revolting."

"I love the color orange." I stated. He looked at me like I was speaking another language. "It's a nice color!"

"No, it's repulsive. It's the color of vomit, Adam." I shook my head, laughing. "I'm being serious!"

"You're being ridiculous." He sighed, slapping my arm. "Wasn't your apartment orange?"

"Yes. I wanted it to be red."

"Why?"

"Because red is cool. It's mysterious. Orange is shit."

"You are the weirdest." He shrugged. "Do you like oranges? Like the fruit?"

"Ugh, no. They're too acidic. It makes me vomit."

"You're making that up."

"Am not." He argued.

"Are to."

"No, I'm not. It gives me heartburn."

"Whatever you say, Tommy." He grumbled under his breath, but stayed quiet. "So..."

"If I tell you everything, would you still be my friend?" I nodded. "You promise me? Because, Adam, I can't lose you."

"Tommy, no amount of anything you'd ever say to me could make me love you any less." I told him. "And I'm pretty sure anything you tell me I can relate to, okay? Don't worry about it."

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"You're perfect." I could feel him staring at my face as a blush began creeping upon my cheeks.

"Not near to perfect, Tommy."

"You really think that?" I nodded. "Well I think you're perfect. Not that it would mean anything to you." I grinned. "I'm afraid to tell you stuff."

"Why?"

"Because I...I have a hard time trusting anyone."

"I'm not just anyone, Tommy. I'm your friend. I'm the person who would love you no matter what. I'll always be here for you." He looked at his knees, a movement I could see out of the corner of my eyes. "I've felt what you're feeling right now. Letting people into a place you don't want them to be. Finally feeling that weight off your shoulders, just to be replaced by different worries. It's scary, I know. Wandering around, looking for someone to tell you they love you. Doing anything for some reassurance that you're not a freak." He lifted a pale hand to his face, wiping away tears.

I pulled into my driveway, turning off the car. I looked at him. His arms were crossed, his blonde fringe hanging in his face. He was clutching the bags of candy in one fist, and I grabbed the other, flattening it out and kissing his knuckles. He looked at me, tears in his eyes. "I love you." I breathed.

"I-I love you too." He sniffled. "God, it's just so hard. All of this. Now's the time where I start to regret saying anything to you. I wish I'd kept it all to myself. I wouldn't be sitting here crying if I hadn't opened my big fat mouth.

"I wish it was like it was on tour. Kissing, but neither of us took it for more than it was. Then I had to get wasted and tell you I loved you. I had to move out of my apartment to-" He cut himself off, clamping his lips shut. Tears rolled down his cheek, over his lips and splashed onto his shirt. He opened the door, clutching his bag and walked up the driveway.

I got out of the car and followed him. He was pouring the bags of candy out on my bed when I walked in. He looked up at me and cleared his throat. "I'll be right back." He told me. He left the room and I watched after him, sighing.

I turned on a lamp in a corner near my bed, fixing the sheets. I had changed into sweatpants by the time he showed up in my doorway. He looked small and scared. He didn't make eye contact with me, just played with his black sweats and stared blankly at his tight white t-shirt. "Tommy, c'mere."

He walked toward me, sitting between my legs, back against my chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist as he began his candy feast. I smiled, kissing the shaved side of his head.

"Where would you like me to start, Babyboy?" He asked quietly. I grinned.

"Anywhere you'd like."

"Well, let me see." He pondered for a few beats. "I have...no idea what sort of o-orientation I am. I don't know. I never thought it mattered before. I told my family I was straight to please them. I told you and your dad I was bi so you'd give me a chance. I tell myself it doesn't matter. You always told me it didn't matter." He stated.

"It doesn't."

"Then why wouldn't you give me a chance when you thought I was straight – yet you also thought you were the exception?" I didn't have an answer. "Because it does matter. It's a double standard." I sighed.

"It's different when it comes to you and me. Everything is different when it comes to us, you know that." I told him. He nodded.

"I do know that, yes. I'm not saying anything is your fault, nor is it your responsibility." I rested my chin on top of his head. "Are you attracted to me, Adam? Like...you know what I mean."

"Of course."

"How attracted?" My throat began to close, my palms began to sweat.

He simply grabbed some gummy worms and rammed them all into his mouth at once, chewing as he waited for my response. "I don't...I don't know what you want me to say to that."

"I want you to answer it honestly."

"I'll scare you off." He shook his head. "Yes I will."

"Adam, you raped my face on national television without any warning whatsoever. You can't scare me."

This conversation was going to turn sexual far too fast. "Tommy, I'll-"

"Just tell me, dammit."

"Demanding much?"

"I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?" I asked.

"Because I want to know how badly you want me. I want to know what you fantasize about."

"I fantasize about you all the time, Tommy. What surprise does that give you?"

"Not surprise – satisfaction. Tell me what you think about us." He turned in my lap, straddling my waist, hands on my shoulders. "You want me." I nodded. "Now?" I tentatively agreed. "How badly?"

"In this position, on a scale of one to ten, I'd give you an eleven." I told him, closing my eyes.

"What if I asked you to fuck me right now, would you?" I shook my head. "Why?"

"Because I can't."

"Why?"

"Tommy, you've never had sex with a man. It's a hell of a lot different, I'm assuming."

"I trust that you wouldn't make it bad."

"I won't." He kissed my forehead.

"Please?"

"E-Eventually." I murmured.

"Now."

"No."

"Why." Not even a question.

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"What's the question?" I almost shouted.

"Why won't you have sex with me?"

"I will. Later. Sleep on it a few weeks."

"Been sleeping on it since God damned June." He muttered under his breath. The he turned his back to be again, grabbing licorice. We sat like that for a few more hours, just talking.

And with every word Tommy spoke, I felt myself falling harder and harder for him. I smiled at the thought, kissing his cheek in the middle of his sentence. "W-What was that for?"

"For being gorgeous." He grinned, then went back to talking about his old roommates.


	11. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New to this. Give me a break.

Weeks passed, but nothing changed. I gave Tommy the same answer everyday ,"Just think about it a little more." He was becoming ornery, angry, and full of angst. I can't begin to tell you the about of times I'd be just walking down the hallway and he'd begin his charade.

Pushing him off was becoming more and more difficult. I was running out of reasons to stop him. The only thing I had left to hang onto was the constant nagging in my head telling me he'd regret it. He'd regret allowing me anywhere near him, and I knew I couldn't lose him.

It was a Friday night, and Tommy had convinced me to go to a bar with him. I knew his tactic – get me drunk, then talk me into fucking him. And in all honesty, it would probably work. I was tired of refusing what I wanted.

Tommy told me he'd called a driver, so neither of us would have to be the designated driver. Not that Tommy had ever been in that position, anyway.

Tommy refused to straighten his own hair – he was afraid of getting burned again. His burn had healed since that night, but he still hadn't gotten over it. So I sat him in a chair in my room and stood behind him, the black iron in my hand.

"Babyboy?"

"Hm?" I trailed my fingers through his hair, the iron following.

"Why won't you sleep with me?"

"We've been through this."

"Tell me." His voice was quiet and high pitched. I stayed silent and he sighed. "I wish I knew what you were thinking."

"I wish I knew what I was thinking." I muttered. "Tommy, it's not that I don't want to. Because believe me, I want to. It's that I'm afraid of fucking something us between us and losing you."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"I'm not. Nothing is worth losing you." A light smile touched his face as my fingers continued to thread through his blonde locks.

"You won't lose me over sex. Not a chance in hell that'll be how it works out, Adam."

"I don't want just sex. I want a relationship."

"And I'll give you that." He told me.

"Tommy," he looked up at me in the mirror in front of him. "Why are we really going out tonight?"

"Honestly? Because I wanted to get you drunk so you'd have sex with me." I nodded.

"I figured." He stood. I set the iron on the counter.

Before I said anything, his hands were cupping my neck and he was pulling my face down to his. Our lips met, that same electric current running down my spine at the connection exploded. My arms wrapped around his waist, holding his tight.

My heartbeat was rapid as his tongue intertwined with mine. His hands traveled from my neck, down my chest, stopping at the hem of my shirt. Then he broke away, breathing heavy, lips inches from mine. "I-I-" He started, nervous.

"You'll be okay. I promise you." He nodded. I placed a light kiss on his lips and his thin fingers lifted my shirt. Once the fabric was on the floor at our feet, his lips returned to mine. I smiled into the kiss.

I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I couldn't believe I was finally letting this happen. The thoughts of this used to leave me in the tour bus bathroom, panting. Now it was here. Facing me. Hitting me.

He was nervous. So nervous. I laid him flat on my bed, my hands running up and down his sides. "Adam," he breathed. "I'm not-"

"I won't hurt you, Tommy." He took a deep breath, nodding, his hands in my hair. "Do you still want this?"

"So, so much." He murmured. I smiled and lifted his black shirt above his head. His skin was pale, yet glorious. I believed I couldn't love him more than I did in that moment. It swelled up in my chest, threatening to make me look like a fool.

"I fucking love you."

"I fucking love you too." I kissed him again, my lips becoming sore.

As his lean fingers began working my belt, I moaned. He smirked and we broke away from the kiss. My belt was thrown across the room, my jeans open. His hand reached in and I grunted, my face buried in his neck. "Tommy. Fuck."

"As you wish." His warm hand palmed my dick, making me groan.

"Tommy," my hands stilled on his hips as he moved his hand along my length. "Fucking-" Words broke of into moans of pleasure.

Then he stopped. "Touch me." He demanded. I fiddled with his belt, then slid his tight pants off his slender legs. My fingers looped around the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down swiftly. My fingers wrapped around him tightly, pumping once.

He yelped slightly, his head tilting back against the pillow beneath him. I bit my lip, pumping once again. "A...Adam. Please, more."

"Patience is a virtue." I told him.

He would have glared, but I didn't give him time before I took all of him in my mouth, lips wrapped over my teeth. "Fuck!" He screamed, hands diving into my hair, pulling slightly. I moaned, the vibrations making him squirm.

I sucked, mouth rising and lowering repeatedly. The image of this tiny blonde quivering because of me was making it hard to concentrate on the control I wanted. "Adam, I-"

With one last suck, he came in my mouth with one loud scream of my name. I swallowed, kissing up his torso and reaching his lips. I kissed him lightly. "I love you." I told him.

"You're so fucking amazing." I grinned.

"Practice makes perfect." He kissed me harder. "You still want more?" He nodded. "You got a strong stamina?" He nodded again.

"Adam?" He asked as I reached over to the nightstand. "Will it hurt?"

I grabbed the condom and lube and set it on a pillow near his head. Then I looked him in the eyes. "Not if you relax." I advised.

"What if I can't relax?" He was panicked.

"You need to breathe. It will be wonderful if you don't stress about it." He nodded.

I nudged his thigh with my hand, making him spread his legs. I kissed right above his bellybutton, dragging my lips across his skin and back around his tip. He moaned. When I grabbed the bottle near his head, though, I felt him tense. "Remember to keep breathing." I whispered, snapping the cap open and slicking my fingers.

My fingers rubbed against his hole before inserting, feeling his heat around them. I grunted. He tensed more. "Tommy, breathe."

"I can't." I positioned myself to look at his face, seeing his glassy eyes.

"You have to. Take a deep breath for me." His mouth opened and he took in air, holding it. "Let go." He breathed out. I felt him relax as I murmured words to him.

My fingers plunged in deeper, hitting his spot. He froze, letting out a strangled yell. "More." He asked for.

I tapped it again and his heels dug into the mattress, his fingers yanking my hair. I slipped in two more fingers within the next few minutes, stretching him open. "More."

I paused. "Tommy, can I just-"

"More."

"You're ready, Tommy." He took a deep breathe. Then, with whatever source of power he had, he grabbed the condom and tore it open, holding it to my tip. I moaned at the slight contact, hips bucking. His black painted fingers slid the latex over me.

It was then that he realized my size. His eyes grew wide as I lubed myself up. "Don't worry. It works." He bit his lip. "You sure about this?"

"As sure as I'll ever be about anything." I smiled, then kissed him. I brushed the head of my cock against his hole and he took a deep breath.

Grabbing his hips tight, I slid into him. He tensed, I held back the urge to scream. "B-Baby," I muttered. "Fuck."

"Go." He told me, voice shaky.

"You s-"

"Fucking move!"

And I did, thrusting into his tightness farther. "Oh my God." I groaned. "Tommy."

And I received a quiet, unsure whimper back. "Adam, fuck."

"So tight." I mustered out. "So incredible."

I brushed against his prostate again, making him scream louder than I knew he could. "A-Adam. Great."

His hips rolled into mine. "Fuck!"

"Harder."

I did as he asked, thrusting harder and deeper into him. Heat coiled against my spine. "Tommy, I'm g-" I muttered minutes later.

"Baby, wait. Almost there." He whispered, head thrown back. His blonde hair was spread against the red of the pillows like all of my fantasies had predicted. He wrapped his legs around my waist. "Ad-"

I was trying to wait. I wrapped my hand around his cock tightly, pumping repeatedly. "Ohmygodfaster." Was the sound he made. I hit his prostate over and over. "Right there. Oh God. I'm coming."

As he did, I did. Splatters of white laced my chest as he moaned. I kept thrusting into him throughout my orgasm, riding out the pleasure.

When I pulled out, he whined. I threw the full condom in the garbage near my bed, rolling onto my back. He wrapped his arms around my waist, silence falling over us both.

I can't believe that just happened. I thought.


	12. Monte

Where were we supposed to go from here? What was I supposed to say to him? What was it going to be like when he woke up?

After going to the bathroom and cleaning myself up, I had returned back to the bed where Tommy peacefully laid. I reclined beside him, never before feeling like I'd fucked something up so completely.

He'd been the one who pushed for it. So why did I feel so guilty? Hours passed, the red numbers on my alarm flicking to another over and over. My hands were behind my head, eyes trained on the ceiling as stress filled tears brimmed my lids.

But when Tommy's body unconsciously gripped mine in the midst of his dream, I smiled. I remembered that this was why I did it. Because I loved him and he loved me.

By seven in the morning, I had no hopes for sleep. Tommy had rolled away from me and had stolen my pillow in his grip. I stood and grabbed my phone before slipping on jeans and leaving the room.

I took a deep breath, dialing a familiar number and walking to my laundry room. "Hello?" Monte's voice rang down the line.

"Can we meet up for coffee or something?"

"Why are you awake so early?" He whined.

"Because I need to talk to someone."

"Talk to Tommy." I stayed silent. "Oh." He understood. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere."

He told me he'd pick me up in a half hour. I slipped on a shirt, lazily running my fingers through my hair to calm its state. Sighing, I knew I should tell Tommy before I left.

After a few minutes, though, I had convinced myself it would be worse if I woke him up than if I just let it be. I was sitting on the counter next to the sink, staring at my leather-covered feet when I noticed a presence in the archway leading to the kitchen.

Tommy was wearing one of my sweatshirts that rested on his mid-thigh. He was biting his fingernails, his hair in a slightly matted way. "Uh, hey." I started.

"You goin' somewhere?" He tried to hide the panic in his voice.

"Just out to coffee with Monte." He nodded.

Then it was quiet for a minute or so. "Is this...is this how it's always going to be? Because this wasn't what I wanted." His voice was small. I looked at him.

"Tommy, no, of course not. C'mere." He walked over, his small feet padding against the cold tile. "I love you. You're perfect, and amazing."

"Everything's so awkward."

"I'm pretty sure no matter who you sleep with, the morning after is going to be awkward as hell." He nodded. "How do you feel?"

"Sore. Uncomfortable as fuck." I smiled.

"I guess that's too be expected. Anything I can do for you?"

"Tell me how to make it feel better."

"A bath. A hot bath."

"I hate baths."

"I know, but it feels so much better."

"You're going out with Monte to talk about me, aren't you." I laughed at the change of subject.

"Of course." I felt him smile against my thin t-shirt. "You can drive my car around if you want."

"I would have anyway." I heard a car drive up to the house and he pulled away from me as I stood. He looked uncomfortable – like talking was a lot easier when we didn't have to look at each other.

I leaned down, capturing his lips with mine. He tangled his hand in my hair, going with the light kiss. Setting my hands on his hips and turning us around, I set him on the counter. He smiled against my mouth as I put my hands on his thighs, sliding up slowly.

A throat cleared then and we broke away to see Monte in the entryway. "Uh..." Tommy panicked. I smiled.

"I'll see you later." I said to him. "Here's my keys." I grabbed them off the small hook my the cupboard and dangled them over his flattened palm. "Promise you'll be careful?"

"Are you concerned about me or the car?" He asked, smirking.  
"The car." He scoffed. "You, of course." I pecked his forehead. "Be careful." He nodded.

"I promise." I smiled. "I love you."

"Love you too." I let him go, walking out of the door with Monte.

"So..."

"So..."

"You and Tommy now?" I cracked a smile. "How did that fall together? I mean, it's about damn time, but how?"

"Uh...well." I cleared my throat. "Tommy moved out of his place a few weeks ago, right?" He nodded, having known this information. "And one night he was drunk-"

"And it's adding up." I grinned.

"And bitched me out for ruining his life. I...sorta hit him."

"You hit him?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah. Regretted it instantly, but it happened. Anyway, we had that practice the next day, right? We fixed things – temporarily. I told him he could stay at my place-"

"Why did he leave his apartment?"

"I'm not sure, actually. He never told me. But, anyway, I went to his place and asked his roommates about it. Tommy knew I was there and followed me, then yelled at me for being nosy – so I no longer ask him why.

"We went back to my place and that's when...things became slightly different. He got all close and started asking if I'd ever fuck him. And knowing me, I got all flustered and mad." He laughed. "So then he left. Stormed out and around midnight, he came to my room and asked if he could sleep in my bed."

"And you let him because you have a huge weak spot for his pout." I bit my lip, smiling.

"Yeah. Anyway," I repeated for the millionth time, "Tommy and I went out for coffee with my mom the next morning." I told Monte as we pulled into the parking lot of the coffee place. "Where my mom told us we both had to go out for dinner with my dad.

"Tommy actually wanted to go – until he burned his face with his straightening iron." Monte laughed, finding us a table and sitting down opposite me. "I convinced him, though. So we went, and before we went inside we got into another argument. He was mad because he thought we'd never date so he decided to be an asshole.

"We went into the restaurant, sat with my dad. The waitress started, like, checking out Tommy, right? So my dad tells him and Tommy gets super awkward and then my dad tells him he should go talk to her. Tommy tells him he's not necessarily single – my dad starts to argue as to what kind of relationship he is in.

"Then he calls him out for being straight and messing around with me. And Tommy fucking lost it. He told my dad and I that we should both stop assuming he's straight because he'd never once said it himself to either of us. Then he started crying-"

My story was cut off by a brunette girl in her early twenties taking our orders. Before I could start again, Monte stepped in. "Long story short..." he started for me.

"Long story short, last night Tommy and I were going to go out to a club. And then he somehow got me to sleep with him." He smirked.

"Somehow?" I bit my lip. "Adam, you and I both know you've wanted this since June."

"But-"

"No excuses. You did it because you know as well as the rest of us that you finally deserve to be happy. Tommy makes you happy." I nodded. "So why am I here?"

"Because I don't know what to do next." He cocked his head to the side.

"Adam," I dropped my gaze, leaning back against the booth. "You know what you're doing."

"I want him to be happy, too."

"Are you blind? Honestly!" I just looked at him. "Tommy's happy. So happy. Because of you, Adam. You don't even realize what the rest of us have been seeing since you hired him. You don't have to try and make him happy – you just do it."

"What of that goes away?"

"Then it wasn't meant to be." I frowned. "But you can't stress about shit like this. It'll ruin your relationship. Trust me, Adam. I've been where you are, I know what you're feeling. You've kinda just gotta go with the flow." I nodded. "When you fight – which you will a lot – don't argue about useless shit. Let him win, even if you know you're right." He advised and I listened.

"What if something happens that I don't have control over? What if he gets hurt somehow and I can't fix him?"

"Then you just have to be there for him. Just let him no that you only want to help." I nodded. "And no matter fucking what, don't get hurt." I smiled.

"I won't."

"I have faith in that. Just...it's my job, you know. To be your guidance or whatever." I laughed. "So...how are you going to tell everyone else?"

"It's not that big of a deal, is it?"

"Oh, my dear oblivious Adam. It's a huge deal."

"Why?"

"Because we've all been kind of watching it happen for a while. Just waiting until either of you grew the balls to do anything about it."

"Then you tell them."

"Oh I would have anyway." I rolled my eyes.

Our coffees came then, and we drank, pondering out loud what I was to do next with Tommy. "Did you know Tommy's mom, like, hates me?" He nodded. "How?"

"I talk to him, too, you know. He told me when he came back after his dad's funeral." I nodded absentmindedly. "What?"

"Nothing, just...why did he tell you and not me?"

"He probably just didn't want you to know. It's not fun, having parents not like someone who is so important to you."

We left soon after that. Monte drove me back to my place, where my car was missing from the driveway. I smirked. "Thanks, Monte. For everything."

"Of course." I closed my door, walking up to my door as he drove away.


	13. Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to Alyn, who I miss more than I can even express. I love you.

I walked through the house, where I could see exactly where Tommy had been this morning after I left. Towels all over the bathroom, soap spilled everywhere. I laughed, just closing the door and walking away.

I sat on the couch, flipping mindlessly through the channels on my TV. About a half hour after I sat down, my phone rang in my pocket. An unfamiliar number popped up. "Uh, hello?" I answered.

"Adam? Adam Lambert?"

"Yes...?" The voice sounded very official and concerned.

"We have a Thomas Ratliff here at Saint Alyn's hospital." I stood abruptly, already walking toward the door. "We think you might want to get here as soon as you possibly can."

"What happened?"

"Mister Lambert, please just get down here." I was panicking.

I grabbed the keys to Tommy's car, running out the door, long legs striding and unlocking the door, pulling out of the driveway.

My heart was racing, vision tunneled. My hands were slick with sweat, my body feeling numb. I gripped the wheel, suddenly hating how Tommy's scent surrounded every inch of his car. I don't know what had happened, how they got my number, or why they wouldn't tell me.

I tried – I really tried – to calm myself down and think positively. I took deep breaths. He probably just fell or something. Yeah. That's it. Maybe he got sick. I knew it didn't add up, but it was all I had to hang onto.

As I pulled into the parking lot and ran up to the doors, I realized I had no idea where I was going. This hospital was fucking huge – I'd been here once before when I'd gone to visit friends and stuff. I walked up to the counter, heart pounding.

"Can I help you, sir?" Her attitude seeping into her voice.

"I was called here about fifteen minutes ago."

"For?" This bitch...

"Thomas Ratliff." I stated, name slipping easily off my tongue.

She looked at a paper on his desk. "Looks like he's in emergency surgery right now." My heart slipped to my feet. "Would you like to talk to someone on his floor?"  
"Look, lady, I don't know what the fuck even happened. I got a call from some women telling me to get here and see my boyfriend. Now would you please fucking tell me what has happened and why my fucking boyfriend is in emergency surgery?" I was shouting, tears beginning a steady trail down my face.

Her eyes grew wide and she nodded stiffly. She picked up her phone and began talking fast, telling them my situation. "You can head up to the fourth floor now. A nurse will be there to talk to you, okay? It'll all be fine." I nodded, walking away briskly and toward the elevator.

When I got to the fourth floor, I was feeling dizzy. A nurse in hot pink scrubs greeted me. "I'm going to guess you're Adam?" I nodded. "I'm Maddy."

"Nice to meet you. Can you tell me what's going on?" She nodded, then lead me over to some chairs in a waiting room. She sat next to me.

"Tommy was driving your car earlier today, I'm assuming you know. That's how we got your number. Are you his..."

"Boyfriend." She nodded.

"Tommy was in a car accident, Adam." I shook my head fast. "Adam,"

"No." I muttered. She grabbed my wrist, trying to comfort me. "Is he..."

"He's supposed to get out of surgery in a few minutes. He hit his head really hard. His brain began to swell, Adam, and the doctors are fixing it before it's too late." I couldn't breathe. "After that, we'll just have to monitor him and wait until he wakes up."

"Wakes up?"

"When the ambulance arrived at the scene, Tommy wasn't breathing. They got that fixed with some oxygen machines, but on the way to the hospital his heart stopped. They had to restart his heart – which did work, he's still alive and fine. But the doctor is assuming he'll be in a coma." I dropped my face into my hands. My lungs felt like jelly.

"When can I see him?"

"Let me go see when he'll be out, okay?" I nodded. She stepped away as a sob escaped my chest.

This couldn't be happening. Tommy – yes, he was a bad driver. Never did I think this would be happening, though. The nurse walked back a minute later.

"You can go see him now. I'll walk you there, okay?" I stood. "Adam?" She looked up at me. "I know you don't care, but I've seen this happen a lot. He'll be okay. I promise you, he will wake up and he will be perfect." The corners of my lips raised.

She walked me down multiple long hallways before she stopped, lightly knocking on a fake wooden door and opening it. I took a deep breath, walking behind her.

The room Tommy was in was so...not Tommy. It was clean, for one thing. And it smelled horrible. I bit my lip, finally forcing myself to look away from the bleach white walls to look at the broken boy on the hospital bed.

The sight was simply heartbreaking. His face was cut up – more on his left than the right. His skin looked bruised and battered. The steady, small rise and fall of his chest moved his blankets. He still had an oxygen mask over his face, eyes closed. His hands were settled over the blanket, something I knew he didn't like.

His earrings were gone, sitting in a baggie on the table across the room. I walked to him quickly, looking at him closer. No reaction. Nothing. No movement, no leaning into someone else like he was so infamous for. Tears fell from my face and onto the white blanket covering him. His tattooed arms were now laced in wires, small tubes – IV's – all hooked to places in his skinny hands.

I couldn't take this. Stay strong, Lambert. Someone has to. I took another deep breath as a doctor walked into the room. "You must be Adam." I nodded.

"Can you...please just tell me what happened?"

"Of course. Why don't you sit down, honey." I sat in a fold-down chair next to the bed, staring at the incision line on the side of Tommy's head. "Well, Thomas – Tommy – was driving your car down the highway in LA. He ran a red light, and as he cut across the road, another car from his left drove right into his side. It spun the car slightly, and he was thrown from his seat to the other side of the car. He hit his head against that window – therefore leading up to his surgery.

"His body, though, was slightly too small to take all of this trauma and went into shock – stopping his heart and cutting off air. We started all of that back up, though," I could tell she was simplifying this story for me. "He's fine, Adam. He'll be okay, you know?"

"How can you be sure?" I asked, staring at his frozen state.

"Because I have faith. I've seen people like Tommy before. He'll be perfectly fine – you just have to be patient. You can't rush health." I nodded. "Would you like to call his friends and family, or would you like us to?"

"I-I'll do it." She nodded. Then she sighed, resting a hand on my shoulder once she stood.

"Promise me one thing?" I looked at her. "That you'll be strong – for him. You can't let yourself get too crazy about this, or nothing will work out." I nodded and she walked out of the room, heels clicking loudly before she shut the door.


	14. Okay

I'd never been a big one for crying. I let a few frustrated tears out here and there, cried at funerals. But never in my life had I cried as hard as I had the first week Tommy was in the hospital. Tubes running everywhere, face swollen. I'd cried so much that after a while the cries turned into tearless sobs.

Tommy's mom had visited him in the hospital the day afterward. She told the doctors and nurses that I wasn't allowed in the room when she was there. I hate her. I will always hate her.

My parents came the next day, along with Neil, Monte, and everyone else who was relevant to this problem. I didn't care. They didn't matter. The only thing my mind was on was the broken blonde in the hospital bed in front of me.

I was quite literally losing my mind. Anytime someone would talk to me, I'd snap. I'd instantly feel guilty, but guilt was overcome by grief and the steady beeps of the heart monitor connected to my world.

"Someone needs to talk to him," I'd hear people whisper. No one would volunteer and I'd keep stroking my thumb over the clammy, pale skin of Tommy's hand. It wasn't until I felt a hand on my shoulder that I really realized I was being an asshole.

It didn't stop me though. I shrugged off the hand. "Adam, come talk with me in the hallway." The words my dad spoke weren't a question, but I shook my head. He leaned down in my ear. "You may be a grownup, six foot something rock star, but I will kick the shit out of you if you don't get your ass in the hall."

His hand gripped my shoulder, yanking me up and away to the too-white corridor. I hit the wall slightly, my hands bracing the wall. "You need something?" I asked, ornery.

"I think you're being really immature about this."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not happy." Sarcasm dripping in the tone.

"I'm not asking you to be happy, Adam, I'm asking you to be positive and helpful to the situation." I shook my head, turning away from the wall. "If you don't, you're not going to be allowed back in that room until he wakes up."

"If he wakes up." I muttered.

"You want to leave? I'll take you home right now and you won't come back." I sighed, rolling my eyes. "The last thing we need in that room is you being negative and shitty. None of us want to deal with that. We're here for Tommy, not for your little pity party. Grow the fuck up or don't come back." I bit my lip, tears flowing steady.

"I'm scared." My voice broke.

"I know you are. And you can be. But you can't make this about you. This isn't about you, this is about the health of someone very important to all of us." I nodded. "We aren't asking you to be happy. You can cry. Just don't be a dick about this. Be positive."

"I will. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." I went to walk back in the room. "Not so fast." I turned back around. "I'm taking you home."

"But-" I protested.

"So you can shower and get some more clothes. You smell." I sighed.

"I can't go back there." I hadn't been home since I got the call. People brought me clothes, and I was pretty sure I'd never smelled this rotten in my life. It didn't matter – Tommy mattered. I figured that I really had no way to get out of this, however, so I looked down at the glare I was sent.

"Tommy will still be here when you get back."

"That's the bad part." I murmured.

He took a deep breath. "I understand that you're hurting, but it's not healthy for you to be the way you are right now." I looked up at him. "And, also, Tommy's mom and sister are coming here in a half hour and you wouldn't be allowed here anyway."

"You could've just said so." He shrugged.

"No matter how I say it, you still smell." He was trying to get me to smile, and it almost worked. We walked down the hall, out of the hospital, and to my father's car. My car was now being replaced. Not as if I really gave a fuck at the moment.

I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to see Tommy's stuff. I didn't want to see the bed we'd-

"Adam, calm down. It's just your house. Yeah, his stuff is there. He's not dead, son. He's going to get better. He's already getting better. You'd know that if you stopped moping around."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." I dropped my head back against the seat after being sure the radio wasn't on. When we reached the house, my heart clenched and my chest tightened. "It'll be fine. It's not good for you to fear your home."

"Probably not. But when have I ever done anything good for me?" He almost smirked before getting out of his car. I followed close behind. He waited for me to unlock the door and walk in before him. When I stalled in the entryway, he put his hands on my shoulders and gave a little shove.

"Do you know how much shit Tommy's gonna give you when he wakes up?"

The thought of it made me want to laugh. I shook my head. "A shit ton." He smiled.

"Go shower." I nodded, walking toward the bathroom. Once I got in the room, I closed the door. I didn't want to look in the mirror, because I knew if I did, I wouldn't stop critiquing myself.

I removed my jeans – which surprisingly enough weren't stuck to my legs. Gripping the edge of my t-shirt, I raised it over my head and it dropped in a puddle near my jeans. As I swiveled to turn on the shower, I caught vision of myself.

I had bloodshot eyes. Red, puffy rims to add to that. My cheeks were black-tear streaked and red. Acne speckled across my forehead and chin from the lack of facewash, which was going to take forever to get rid of. My hair was greasy and stuck to my skin and my eyes were a dull gray. I hadn't shaved in about two weeks, making me look halfway homeless. I looked like shit. No wonder everyone thought I was fucked up.

The steam from the shower was beginning to fog up the mirror, distracting me from my self-hatred. I face the shower again, pulling back the curtain and stepping in. I yanked the curtain back, probably too hard.

I stumbled out of the shower after washing and conditioning my hair. I grabbed a plush, red towel and dried off my face first, wrapping it around my waist. I bit my lip, restlessly sitting down on the cold tile floor. I pressed my palms to my eyes as I brought my knees up to my chest.

I can't even begin to imagine how long I sat like that before the door opened. I expected to hear my dad's voice, telling me I was pathetic. Instead I heard, "Never imagined I'd have to give advice to my big brother."

"Never recall asking for advice from my little brother." Neil ignored that, sitting down next to me. "I know what you're going to say. The same things dad did. So, you can leave now."

"No. I'm not going to lecture you. I'm not going to tell you how ridiculous you're being because you already know that part. I'm just going to sit here as long as you want because you've done it enough times for me. I owe you."

It was silent for seconds and minutes. Long minutes. Then I began sobbing. Just all and out crying. Arms wrapped around my waist. "He's going to be okay, Adam."

"Why him, though? As if he didn't have enough problems."

"He's a tough kid. He puts up with your bullshit." I shook my head, crying on my brother's shoulder.

"What if he never fully recovers?"

"Stop. Even I'm more positive about this than that. He'll be fine."

"What if he's not?"

"What if he's not? What the hell is crying about it going to change? Absolutely nothing! If he's permanently damaged, he's still Tommy. You'll still love him just the same. He's the same guy. He'd just have a few things to do different. He's used to different." I looked up at him. "And no matter what happens, he wouldn't want you to be this sad. No one wants you to be this sad."

I nodded, knowing that Neil was right. That thought itself, though, was rare in my brain. Something was wrong with me. "Where's dad?"

"He went back to the hospital. He got bored." I almost grinned.

An hour later, we waltzed back into the hospital. Just as we went into the room, Tommy's mom and sister were leaving. His sister – whom I'd never been introduced to, nor told about – smiled and waved at me. His mother, on the other hand, shot me a death glare.

I walked into the room alone, in the room just Tommy and me. His swollen face was slightly less puffy than it seemed earlier. He looked like he was getting better. I walked over to his bed, gripping his hand – wires and all.

"I need you to get better for me." I whispered. "I need to see your eyes. I need to see you smile. I'd give anything to see that you could breathe on your own. Please. Get better. I love you."

Positive outlook and all, I still needed him.

Three hours later, the sun was beginning to set as I watched it through the window. Visiting hours were over, I was informed by a short nurse in yellow scrubs. I stood, grabbing my things and leaning down to kiss Tommy's forehead. "I love you." I murmured.

As I went to turn to leave, a flash of movement caught my eye. The heart monitor began to beat faster as I turned to him. Nurses and his doctor came rushing in, pushing me out of the room.

Tommy's awake. This thought echoed and raked through my skull as the door was closed in my face.


	15. Speak

Awake doesn't always mean okay. Sometimes it just means there. Sometimes it means alive, but not living. And this was what happened to Tommy. He was blinking. He was breathing. He was looking around. But he wasn't better.

He didn't speak. He didn't move. He ate only when forced – which the nurses made me comfort him to do. I spoke to him, of course, but there was no response.

"Tommy, baby, can you please talk to me? Baby, tell me what you're thinking." He just stared at me, gnawing at his lip. I leaned closer to his ear, nuzzling the side of his head. "Whenever you're ready, I'm here."

I expected this to work like it did in the movies. Tommy would turn to me and pour his heart out and everything would be okay again. But of course, that would be too easy. Instead he rolled away from me – as well as he could with tubes in his hands – and closed his eyes. I sighed.

"Sleep, Tommy. I love you." I said, leaning closer and kissing his shoulder.

–

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks since Tommy woke up. Even longer since I've heard him speak. But everyday I've been in his room, talking to him, telling him I love him. I didn't know what was wrong.

"Tommy, just talk to me. Just tell me you're all right, tell me what is wrong." I was getting snappy about it. I was tired of "giving him time". Tommy just stared blankly at me. "I know you can hear me, I know you fucking know what's going on. You can talk, your brain is okay."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was stopping himself. His eyelids were holding back tears. "Speak, Tommy, tell me what the fuck is up!" He just looked in the other direction suddenly and I shook my head.

Standing, I walked out of the room. I left the hospital once I reached Tommy's car and got in, pulling out of the parking lot and driving home. I was pissed. I just wanted to fucking know he was okay, to know he hadn't gone completely crazy. I just wanted to hear his voice, and there was no reason he shouldn't be talking to me.

I needed food. Real, greasy, bad for you shit. I pulled into a McDonald's drive thru, putting on sunglasses and a baseball hat, crossing my fingers in hopes I wouldn't be recognized. Ordering enough for three, I drove back onto the highway and contemplated what to do.

I decided to call Monte. He answered on the second ring, "Yes?"

"I think I need help getting my head outta my ass." I told him. I heard a grumbling laugh. "I'm serious. I'm eating like nine McDonald's cheeseburgers right now."

"And how does Lane feel about that?" I laughed.

"She doesn't know." Then I sighed. "Tommy still isn't talking. And I blew up at him a little bit." When Monte didn't respond, I elaborated. "I told him to just talk to me. I yelled."

"Why?"

"Because it's killing me to not know what he's thinking. He has no reason to be silent, Monte, no reason."

"I agree, Adam. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Why isn't he talking? Has he talked to you?"

"He hasn't, no. I don't know, Adam, he's probably just shaken up." He excused. "He's probably scared. Tommy's been through a lot in the past month or so, Adam."

"It's not fair." I mumbled.

"No, it's really not." He agreed. I sighed. "You should go back to the hospital and stop eating your feelings. It's not going to get you anywhere." I laughed, just hanging up my phone.

I went home before heading back to the hospital. I had to grab clothes; for Tommy and for myself. Tommy was supposed to be getting out of the hospital in a couple days, and I needed to get through to him before that. It was like holding conversation with a brick wall. I went straight to Tommy's room after I got there, setting down his things beside the bed.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you and for leaving." I said when he looked up at me. He sighed, then bit his bottom lip. "I just miss hearing your voice. And I know you're scared, and shaken up, and I understand that, Tommy. But don't shut me out because of it." He looked down at his hands. "I love you."

"I love you too." He murmured. My heart swelled with joy and I grinned, grabbing his face in my hands and kissing his forehead. His voice sounded raw and scratchy as he said, "I'm sorry, Adam." I shook my head.

"Don't be, baby. It's fine. We're fine."

"I wrecked your car." I smirked.

"I've been driving yours." He laughed. "How are you feeling?" I asked, running my hands through his hair.

"Scared."

"Of what?"

"Everything changing because of this. I don't want people to like take care of me and shit, it's annoying." I nodded.

"I promise I won't let it happen. Except me, I'm going to go all mother-hen and you're gonna have to deal with it."

He smiled, "I figured." I was staring at him, taking in his features. "I love you."

I grinned. "As I love you." He moved his hand to grab mine, lacing our fingers. "I was really scared, Tommy, that you wouldn't make it. You have no idea how much that thought terrified me."

He took a deep breath. "I was driving too fast. It was me, I was distracted because I was thinking about us and I was panicking. And then I looked up and the truck was right there. And I didn't know what to do. And I woke up here."

"Tommy, do you actually feel okay?"

"No. I hurt and I'm dizzy." I frowned. "But I told my doctor and she said it was normal and it'll go away, I just hate it." He smirked, "And I'm really fucking hungry and you smell like burgers." Resting my forehead on Tommy's, I laughed lightly. Lifting his chin slightly, Tommy kissed me softly.

I returned the kiss, pressing my lips harder to his and grabbing the sides of his face. His hands wrapped around my wrists, holding me there. Licking his bottom lip, he opened up for me and moaned quietly. I loved the taste of him, the way he just let me take over.

"Am I interrupting?" I broke away from Tommy, eyes opening quickly as I whipped my head around. Standing in the doorway was Neil, smirking and rolling his eyes. "I'm supposed to tell you we have to go. Mom wants to go out to dinner or something."

"But-"

"Do you want to tell her you don't want to go?" He asked me. I sighed, turning back to a smiling Tommy.

"Go, I'm fine." I kissed him again and stood up. "Have fun."

"Oh I'll have tons." He laughed, pushing me toward the door. "I love you."

"Love you too."

And finally, things seemed to be looking up.


End file.
